Running
by illman
Summary: Sara runs away from the people she knows, but when she realizes what she is missing, it might already be to late. CSIxWaT crossover. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

_Running_ _Disclaimer: CSI and Without a Trace are the property of their respective owners. I own nothing._ _Spoilers: CSI up to Play with Fire, WaT first season_

Summary: WIP. CSI / WaT crossover. Set after CSI PwF and WaT Fallout 2. It's easier to run than to act.

_A/N: Thanks to all the great people hanging out at Maple Street. __You're amazing._

***

_Las Vegas Crime Lab, Las Vegas_

_May 10, 4.30 p.m._

One step after another, Sara Sidle walked down the corridor of the Las Vegas crime lab.  She saw the people working behind the glass walls of the lab, she saw co-workers passing her, but her mind was blind to all of it.  It remained fixed on the past 60 seconds, replaying them again and again.  Mechanically Sara approached the front desk and signed out, almost completely unaware of it.  She walked the familiar way out to the parking lot.  With every step she felt worse.  The emotion was indescribable, a mixture of hurt, regret, fear and anger.  Anger was making way to regret and fear.  The confidence that she had felt in Grissom's office just minutes ago seemed to have vanished inexplicably.  Sara reached her car, unlock the door and got in, still functioning mechanically.  In all the emotional chaos inside her mind, there was still the voice of reason which told her that driving right now would be ill-advised. Having been a loyal follower of reason throughout the years, Sara leaned back and took a deep breath.  The violent onslaught of colours and sound wouldn't leave here alone.

Instinctively, she shook her head as if the movement could shake off unwanted thoughts.  She had asked a man who meant a lot to her, out to dinner and he had declined her invitation.  Was this in fact the end of the road? Sara didn't know, she wasn't sure of anything involving Grissom anymore.  She had been of the firm belief that her feeling were indeed reciprocated.

But the world of Sara Sidle had been shaken up in the last 24 hours.  She couldn't yet grasp the full extend of it all. It wasn't so much what had happened in the outside world, but what had happened within her.  It was as if a stretchedrubber band had finally snapped.  The tension was gone, but the feeling of release she had hoped for wasn't there.  Slowly, after an in measurable time, driving seemed safe enough again. Sara drove home to her apartment and to decisions to be made.

_Hotel Laurentius, New York City_

_May 14, 7.15 a.m._

Trying to shake off fatigue from two very short nights, Jack Malone took the stairs up to the fourth floor hotel room.  As wrapped up as he was in his personal life at the moment, he was glad that there was a new case.

He was acutely aware of his team reacting to his arrival.  Normally he wouldn't have given it any though, he probably wouldn't even have noticed.  But this morning, the questioning, curious looks reached him.  He hadn't been this aware of the power of other people's eyes since the days when he used to leave the office together with Samantha.  Then he had always been watching out for the curious, probing gazes around the office.  Those times were in the past, only the happy memory remained.

It was Danny who broke off the silence.

"This is where she was staying.  Sara Sidle, thirty-one years old Caucasian female.  She checked in on May 11 at 2.45 p.m.  That was the last time anyone saw her.  She was reported missing when she didn't show up for two appointments yesterday."

"Any background on her yet?" Jack asked no one in particular.

"Resident of Las Vegas, Nevada.  Criminalist with the Las Vegas crime lab.  We're running her credit cards and bank records right now," Vivian answered.

"Who reported her missing?"

"One Dr. Watts.  She was supposed to meet at 3 p.m. yesterday.  He said he tried to call her, even went to the hotel, but didn't find her.  NYPD checked back with the LVPD, but she hasn't been seen there either."

The hotel room looked just like any other.  Nothing particular jumped out at them. Unlike a private residence which bore the marks of its inhabitants and their personalities, a hotel room revealed little.  A small suitcase stood next to the bed unopened.  The bed was still made.  On the table on the other side of the room were a filled glass and an opened pack of Aspirin.  A folded copy of yesterday's New York Times.  A light jacket was draped over the back of the chair.

Jack checked the pockets.  Hotel key card, but no wallet.  He wasn't sure whether it was the room or the after-effects of the previous 48 hours , but the room wasn't telling him anything.  It was mute, anonymous.  

"Look at that.  Her cell phone," Danny picked the object up from under the bed. "Screen's cracked, it's not working."

"There's a bloody towel in the bathroom, as well as blood in the sink and on the bathroom floor."

"Okay, let's get this room processed. If there was a struggle forensics is going to find evidence of it. Also I want all the background on her and on this Dr. Watts."

_Missing Person Unit, New York City_

_May 13, 9 a.m._

"This is our time-line so far.  Sara landed at  LaGuardia Airport  at 1 p.m. on May 11.  From what we can tell from the airport security tapes she was travelling alone and wasn't picked up by anybody.  She had one suitcase and one carry-on bag.  The suitcase was in her hotel room, the carry-on bag is still unaccounted for.  Those are pictures from the security footage," Danny pinned them up at the whiteboard.  The grainy black-and-white picture

"Do we know what's with her face?"

"No, not yet.  But I've asked the LVPD to search local hospitals for any records of her having been treated recently."

"Have them look into police records as well.  Maybe there is an abusive boyfriend," Vivian suggested.

"At 2.45 p.m. she checks into Hotel Laurentius and pays with her credit card for three days on advance.  At 3.30 p.m.  she gets a twenty-one minutes long call from Dr. Robert Watts.  Directly after that at 3.55 p.m. she calls a number in Las Vegas, we're still waiting for a name.  At 4.56 p.m. she buys a newspaper at the hotel's shop.  We haven't yet been able to go through the tapes from the hotel lobby or the store.  At 8.15 p.m. she get another call from Dr. Watts.  At 9.57 p.m. she uses her credit card to buy a packet of Aspirin at a pharmacy across the street.  That's the last time anyone has seen her.  Police are out questioning employees of both shops and the hotel."

"The Aspirin was in her room, so we know that at some point she was back there after going to the pharmacy.  The report from forensics state that the blood found on the towel is female.  We need a sample to compare it too.  Further background came back empty, she's single, no kids.  She used her credit card to purchase a one way ticket to New York May 12.  There hasn't been any activity since last night.

"We need to go to Las Vegas, talk to her friends, co-workers.  Buying a one-way ticket means that she didn't plan on going back, we need to figure out why.  Martin and I will go.  The rest of you get those video tapes and talk to Dr. Watts, find out what she was doing here, figure out with whom she was supposed to meet.  Let's go."

Vivian stayed behind in the room.

"Are you sure that going to Las Vegas is a good idea? You could always send someone else."

"I know what I'm doing." Jack's tone was sharper than he had intended.  The truth was he had no idea what he was doing.  He wanted to stay but that was afraid of the implications.  It would mean that he had to face the decision that he had to make eventually.  Going to Las Vegas allowed him a buffer, a small pocket of time.  He knew that putting off the inevitable wouldn't help him or anyone else.  Marie would get mad at him, if she was still capable of any feelings towards him.  The whole hostage crisis had brought feelings to the surface which he wasn't prepared to acknowledge.  Now that they were out in the open, he had to deal with them and make a decision.  He sighed.  Now that things had reached an impasse, there was no easy way out of this.  In fact there never was.

Jack had been so lost in the never ending debate between his intellect and his feelings, that he hadn't noticed that Vivian was still there. 

"Have you been to see Samantha at the hospital?" she tentatively asked, knowing at she was walking on thin ice.  She didn't know for sure but had a pretty solid idea about the emotional TNT that was between Samantha and Jack right now.  Jack running away wasn't going help, If anything the inevitable explosion was only going to be more devastating.

 "No I haven't been there yet." Jack answered after a pause, avoiding to offer any further explanation, His tone made it clear that this discussion was closed.  The truth was that he didn't dare answer that question for himself.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: CSI and Without a Trace are the property of their respective owners. I own nothing._ _Spoilers: CSI up to Play with Fire, WaT first season_ _Summary: WIP. CSI / WaT crossover. Set after CSI PwF and WaT Fallout 2. It's easier to run than to act._

A/N: Big thanks to D for her advice and support as a beta reader. Also thanks to all of you at Maple Street, you are amazingly inspiring. _~flashback~ _denotes a flashback.

_Waiting Area LaGuardia Airport, New York City_

_May 14,  1 p.m._

"…warrants looking into it.   How do you think are our chances of getting these files?" Martin's voice broke into his stream of consciousness.

"Mhhm, uh, yes." Jack mumbled, having no idea what Martin had been talking about.

"Jack, you didn't hear a thing I just said, did you?"

"I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"I told you about an incident report that the LVPD faxed us just before we left, " he paused.   

"Are you okay? Maybe you should take a few days off"

"No, everything's fine.   Just give me the damn papers, I can read them for myself." He had raised his voice and several people in the waiting hall turned in their direction.

Jack regretted his words, as soon as he had spoken them.   He hadn't meant to lash out at Martin like that.   

It hadn't been fair to leave Sam in the dark.   This didn't have anything to do with their relationship.   Visiting Sam would have been a common courtesy when working within such a closely knit unit where they depend on how each other every day.   To his shame he hadn't fully realized that Samantha had no way of knowing how the hostage situation had turned out.   Jack felt trapped.   No matter what he did, in which direction he turned, guilt was waiting for him.   Guilt about neglecting his daughters guilt for not being there for Samantha.

_New York City_

_May 14, 1.45 p.m._

"His name is Robert Watts, forty-nine years old, has been married for twenty-three years, two kids.   He has been working for the New York City Crime lab for the past five years in the position of vice-director.  Before that he's been working for the San Francisco Crime Lab.  He's done his PhD in anthropology.  I'm still awaiting for the report on his finances." Vivian read from her notes, as she and Danny were driving to Dr.  Watts home.

"He's climbing that career ladder pretty quick.  Vice director, could get nasty if he's hidden a skeleton or two in his basement."

"Don't we all have those?" Vivian asked sarcastically.

The house, where they finally stopped, was typically suburban, looking like thousands more all across the country.  But the peaceful façade was often a deceptive veil covering lies and dark secrets.  Dr. Roberts Watts was determined  not to let anything stain his version of the perfect suburban life and the perfect suburban marriage. 

„How was your relationship with Sara Sidle?"

"I can see what you are getting at." Dr.  Watts immediately went on the defensive.  "But you're wrong.  Sara and I worked together for the San Francisco Crime Lab five years ago.  I was amazed by her good work.  She's very bright and extremely dedicated.  We've stayed in touch even after I left for New York.  A couple of months ago I mentioned that we were looking for a new CSI here and were having trouble finding qualified candidates with several years of experience.  I let her know that I'd hire her if she wanted to come to New York.  Two days ago she called out of the blue and asked whether the offer was still standing.  It was so, I invited her to come here and speak to the director of the lab.  He is ultimately in charge of making new hires."

"When was this meeting scheduled?"

"At 3 p.m.  the next day."

"When you talked to the police you stated that she had missed two appointments that day." Vivian referenced her notes.  "What was the second appointment?"

"Sara and I were going to meet for breakfast." Dr.  Watts shifted uncomfortably.  "Look, I told all this to the police already."

"Whose idea was the breakfast meeting?" Danny wasn't to be deterred.

"I suggested it and she accepted.  I was curious to find out what had prompted her change of mind regarding coming to New York."

"The phone records show that you called Sara three times between her arrival at 9.30 am and 10.30 pm.  Does that mean you needed to call her three times to ask her out for breakfast?"

"I called to see whether she had arrived.  Then I asked her whether she wanted to have dinner with me.  Later on we decided to meet for breakfast."

"Why did she decline your dinner invitation and then decide to have breakfast with you?"

"She said that she was tired and wanted to go to bed early." Dr.  Watts sounded as if he didn't believe it himself.

"Okay.  Where were you around 9 p.m. the day before yesterday ?"

"You're asking for my alibi?"

"Dr.  Watts, you know how a missing persons investigation works.  It's crucial to quickly eliminate as many suspects as possible." Vivian tried to defuse the situation before it had a chance to begin to escalate.

"I was at home all night."

"Can anyone confirm this?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"What about your wife?  Where was she that night?"

"I was alone at home.  My wife is on a business trip in Phoenix."

Dr.  Watts hadn't given them much new information.  He had only answered their questions, careful not to volunteer any additional information.  In spite of his apparent nervousness, he had played well.   Still, he had provided them with one possible angle of the investigation.  One where he was a suspect. 

_Somewhere on the flight New York City to Las Vegas_

_May 14, 2.45 p.m._

Jack tried to make up for his earlier lack of attention for the case by reading up on the faxes Martin had given him.  A search for incident reports had come back negative.  Sara had been treated at Desert Palms hospital on May 9.  She had received stitches in her hand.  Cause of injury was listed as an accident at work.  That didn't give them much.  So far this case was devoid of any hot leads; nothing was jumping out to him.  Maybe Martin was right and he needed some time off.  He had never had such had such trouble keeping focussed on his work.  Against his will, Jack's mind started to wander again.  Not to the last hours in Sara Sidle's life before her disappearance, but to the past 48 hours of his own life.

_~He didn't know how long he had been sitting in the bedroom watching his wife sleep, but not really seeing her.  He was just sitting there, dazed, the shock finally catching up with him.  It was the sound of Maria's alarm clock that yanked him back to reality and made him realize in what a strange position he was in.  Before his eyes, Maria reached out with one hand, and with one routine movement turned off the alarm clock.  She propped herself up on one elbow and looked up sleepily.  For a brief moment a confused expression came over her features, but dissipated rapidly making way to surprise._

_"Jack, what are you doing here?" She asked sleepily, before sitting up-_

_He heard her and registered the question, but was incapable of coming up with an answer.  The truth was he had come because he needed to see his family.  But to express this simple fact was complicated, as was all, even the most basic, communication in what remained of their frayed marriage._

_"Shouldn't you be at work?" she got up and walked past him into the bathroom._

_Jack felt hurt.  He knew that was exactly what he was in for by just showing up like this, but still he wasn't willing to accept that it was over between him and his family.  _

_By the time he had picked himself off the floor and into the kitchen, Maria was already dressed and busy making coffee._

_She heard him come in and turned around.  It seemed like she was looking at him for the first time that morning.  Her gaze halted on his shirt.  He glanced down his front and found what she was looking at.  A dark brown-red smear on his crumpled white shirt.  He hadn't noticed it before, but instantly recognized the distinctive colour of dried blood._

_"Are you all right? Did something happen at work?" she sounded genuinely concerned._

_"No, I'm okay.  __It's just been a long night." He was shocked with how much ease he twisted the truth to his convenience._

_"You have blood on your shirt." Maria stated matter-of-factly; it was clear that she didn't buy into his attempt at downplaying the situation.  He could see where she was coming from.  He suddenly showed up in their bedroom, after weeks of barely making any contact with her.  It wasn't such a far leap to conclude that something must have happened._

_"Jack, what happened? How did you get blood on your shirt?" she sounded impatient._

_"I can assure you that I'm fine.  It's not my blood." Even to his own ears, he sounded professional and detached, like he was talking to someone at work, not to his wife.  It was the best he could muster.  Any attempt of saying something more personal was leading down a slippery slope.  What could he say? The truth? That he had gotten the blood the blood of his ex-mistress on his shirt while carrying her out of a hostage situation, all the while risking his life? The very thought was preposterous._

_"Jack, I'm still your wife.  Talk to me."_

_"You know I can't discuss any detail of my cases with you," Jack knew that this conversation was going the wrong way fast._

_  
"Of course I know!" Maria's voice was now bordering on shrill._

_"We had a ransom drop-off get out of hand.  One of my agents got caught up in it."_

_"The hostage situation in a bookstore downtown.  That was all over the news yesterday.  I had no idea you were involved in this.  You got in the middle of it, didn't you?" Disbelief had replaced anger._

_"I made a tactical decision." That was a cop-out and they both knew it.  
  
_

_"What were you thinking? Did you conveniently forget that you are the father of two girls? Were you even thinking about them for one second during all this?"_

_Jack couldn't answer.  He had thought of them.  But they hadn't been his first thought.  Knowing that was something he would have to live with.  It hurt, a lot._

_"This is my job, Maria.  There are risks involved and we both know that."_

_"I know enough to be aware that going in there yourself isn't part of your job.  _

_I guess that shows both of us where your priorities lie."_

_Maria was right.  Even if those words had been spoken out in anger without her giving any second thought to them, they still held truth.  It was over and had been for a long time.  he still loved his family and that wasn't going to be changed by the fact that his marriage to Maria had fallen apart.  There was nothing left to say for him.  Maria went about her business, getting the girls ready for school.  He just stood there watching, feeling like an outsider -- a stranger to his own family.~_

As much as Maria's words had  hurt him, they did point him in the direction of the reason why.

It was guilt, guilt for neglecting his family not just during the hostage crisis but also on an every-day basis.  Truth was that he was married to his job, not to Maria.  Guilt also about the fact that in that one critical moment when he had been willing to risk his life for Samantha, he had not spent one second thinking about his family.  This was inexcusable.  His rational mind had certainly come up with all sorts of excuses, but they were all weak.  Of course, it was true that he had to focus on his job and couldn't allow himself to be distracted by personal feelings, but he had violated that rule already with regard to Samantha.  While his decision to exchange himself for her had probably saved her life, he had made the decision based on his feelings for her.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

_Running_ _Disclaimer: CSI and Without a Trace are the property of their respective owners.  I own nothing._ _Spoilers: CSI up to Play with Fire, WaT first season_

Summary: WIP.  CSI / WaT crossover.  Set after CSI PwF and WaT Fallout 2.  It's easier to run than to act.

A/N:  Big thanks to D for turning this into something readable and to E for making it possible for me to see the show in the first place.  You so rock! Also, as always to the Maple Street gang for being so inspiring.

_McCarren Airport, Las Vegas_

_May 14,, _

The rest of the flight passed in a haze.   Jack barely noticed how the time 

had passed; he was actually surprised when the flight attendant announced 

that they were about to land.   On the ground they were greeted by Agent 

Nguyen from the Las Vegas field office.

"Good afternoon Agent Malone, Agent Fitzgerald." Nguyen nodded in their 

direction.  "I've done the background checks you asked for.  Clean credit 

history, no extraordinary withdrawals or payments during the last six 

months.  A Yukon is registered to Miss Sidle; it's parked in front of her 

apartment building.  We've taken a preliminary look at her apartment, no 

signs of struggle.  According to her rent contract she lives there alone.  

Oddly, no missing persons report was filed with the LVPD.  We contacted her 

parents, but they haven't heard from her in months.  Apparently they haven't 

had much contact with her during the last couple of years." He handed Jack a 

file.

"Not surprising if she went the New York on vacation.  If I disappeared while 

on vacation nobody would notice either." Martin interjected.

"We'll take a look at her apartment first, then we'll have to talk to anyone 

who might have had contact with her before she left town.  Someone's got to 

know why."

_Sara Sidle's apartment, Las Vegas_

_May 14,  3 p.m._

The two-room apartment provided just enough space for one person.  The main 

room doubled as kitchen and living room; there was a small bathroom and a 

bedroom.  The apartment was sufficiently furnished, but remarkably devoid of 

decoration.  No photographs or artwork of any kind on the wall.

"I'm going to take a look at the bedroom." Martin announced.

Jack looked around the small kitchen area.  Everything was tidy, no dirty 

dishes, nothing on the counter.   Jack opened the fridge.  Completely empty.  

Sara had been planning on being away for a while.  In spite of the 

short-notice purchase of her ticket, Sara had organized her affairs 

before leaving.  He checked the trash; it was empty, further confirming 

his impression.  Sara had known what she was doing when she was getting ready 

to leave.  There was something  or someone here she had wanted to get away 

from.  He walked over to the living area.  Telephone, answering machine, 

address book and note pad.  No messages; A few entries in the address 

book, just numbers, no names.  Jack noticed that one number had been crossed 

out.  Someone she didn't want in her life anymore? At any rate they'd have to 

check all of them.  Nothing on the notepad.

Martin returned from the bedroom.  "Nothing there.  A single bed, made, no 

pictures, nothing.  As if she didn't even live here."

"She doesn't seem to have any hobbies, except work.  Look at her books.  No 

works of literature, only work related reading.  Forensics, 

anthropology, anatomy, physics." He scanned the backs of the books.

"Well, she does seem to watch TV." Martin turned on the television.  "It's 

set to the discovery channel.  I don't see any tapes or DVDs around."

"What did she do all day except work? No hobbies, no friends, no family that 

reported her missing." Jack was puzzled by the lonely life unfolding before 

him.  "There was nothing holding her here."

_Gil Grissom's apartment, Las Vegas_

_May 14,  4 p.m._

Grissom was at home spending the time he had left before start of shift, 

catching up on his reading as well as reluctantly engaging in the 

necessary household chores.  No observer would have been able to tell, but 

underneath the surface he was still agitated.  Ever since his conversation 

with Sara his mind had been working incessantly.  He was used to being a 

slave to his intellect, but this time was quite different.  This wasn't a 

situation that could be picked apart and broken down into its elements.  He 

hated to admit it, but he wasn't satisfied with how it had gone.   But he 

didn't really see how he could have given a different answer.  He was just 

about to pick up some books to put them back on the shelf when he heard 

the faint ring of the doorbell.  Automatically he wondered whether he had 

hadn't heard previous rings as muffled shouting from the corridor reached 

him.  He walked over and peered through the peephole.  He saw a fairly young 

man flashing.  He opened the door a crack.

"Are you Dr.  Gil Grissom?"

"Yes."

"I'm special Agent Fitzgerald with the FBI." Martin showed his badge.  "I'd 

like to ask you a few questions."

Grissom opened the door and let the agent in.   he had an ill feeling.  If 

this was about a case, why would they visit him at home? He would be at 

CSI in an hour.  Could it be that he hadn't heard the ringing of the phone? 

That had happened to him before just over a week ago.  This just one more 

warning sign.  But right now, the FBI agent in his living room demanded his 

attention,

"..., Mr.  Grissom?"

"Yes, what is this about?"

"I'm investigating the disappearance of Sara Sidle.  When was the last 

time you saw her?"

Grissom had heard him perfectly, but almost wished he hadn't.  This 

didn't make any sense, his mind screamed.  The FBI was investigating Sara's 

disappearance.  How could she have disappeared?

"I saw her on May 10 as she was about the leave the lab at the end of shift.  

" Grissom heard his own voice, but the words were foreign to him.  His mind 

was recalling the information on auto-pilot.  "She called me 

the next morning and asked for a couple days of leave."

"Why ...  leave?"

"For personal reasons."

"Did she seem disturbed or upset lately?"

"There was an explosion in our lab on May 10; she was caught in the blast, 

but luckily not seriously injured.  I urged her to take some time off, but 

she didn't want to."

"That's not what I asked, but thank you for the information.  How did she 

seem when you last saw her?"

"She seemed ...  normal." This wasn't true, but Grissom couldn't possible put 

his last encounter with Sara into words right now.  Even in another situation 

he had a hard time picking up on people's moods.  Sometimes, they seemed like 

a language he had never learned to master.  The evidence left behind by their 

actions usually told him all he needed to know.

"She called you the next morning.  What was that about?"

"She was asking for a few days off.  I told her to take as many as she 

needed."

"...  attitude."

Grissom wasn't sure what the Agent had just said.  He couldn't help feeling 

completely out of control in this situation.  He had no information, no idea 

what was going on.  If he hadn't known better, he would have been convinced 

that this was some twisted, horrible nightmare.

_FBI Field Office, Las Vegas_

_May 14,, 6 p.m._

"Have you learned anything new?"

"Gil Grissom, her supervisor, I think he might be our guy.  At least, he 

knows more than he's telling us.  He was very nervous and evasive, didn't 

really answer my questions.  His story is that she just asked him for a few 

days of leave for personal reasons; he said yes and that was it.  I say 

we dig deeper on this guy.  You get anything?

"No, according to several police officers she is working with, she's quiet, 

hard working, very professional.  No one knows what she's doing in her 

off-time.  But the last case she was working on was connected to a gang 

called "Las Culebras".  Our organized crime task force is looking into them.  

It's a long shot but so far it's all we have." Jack couldn't keep the 

frustration out of his voice.  He was having a hard time with this case, no 

matter how hard he tried he couldn't get inside it.  He had no feeling for 

Sara, no impression of her personality.  It wasn't the case, he had worked 

cases with fewer leads and they had still been able to solve them.  "I'll be 

talking to some more of Sara's co-workers.  It turns out that all but two 

private phone numbers in her address book belong to people from work, one 

belongs to her parents, the other to one Hank Peddigrew.  He's a paramedic at 

Desert Palms Hospital."

"You sure that you don't want me to help you with questioning the 

co-workers?" Martin must have noticed that his attention wasn't fully 

focused on the case.

"No, it's fine.  Go to the hospital and get more information about the lab 

explosion.  Also see if you can talk to Mr.  Peddigrew.  I want to know why 

his number has been crossed out in her address book."

_Crime Lab, Las Vegas_

_May 14,,  7.30 p.m._

Everyone Jack talked to seemed to be saying the same thing: Sara was 

completely devoted to her work, and would never just leave town without 

telling anyone.  But no one knew her in her off-time.  The two co-workers, 

Nick Stokes and Warrick Brown,  indicated that they worked together very 

well, but didn't know anything about her personal life.  In neither 

conversation had anything suspicious had come up.  Nick Stokes was shocked 

to hear about her disappearance and seemed genuinely worried what might have 

happened to her.  His demeanour was open, not trying to hide emotion.  

"It's just not like Sara.  She would never just leave without telling 

anyone." Nick sounded incredulous.

"Did she maybe have problems at work lately?"

"Normally not, but on the last case we worked she went ahead on her own to 

arrest a suspect without waiting for the police to clear the area."

"Did she ever act reckless before or disregarded protocol?"

"No, not as far as I know." Nick shrugged.

"What happened afterwards?"

"Nothing, I tried to talk to her but she didn't want to.  I dropped it.  I 

just put the incident in my report." Nick paused.  "Do you think you'll find 

her?"

"I don't know, we are still trying to find out why she went to New York 

City."

Warrick Brown didn't have anything useful for them either.

"I honestly can't think of a reason why Sara would have wanted to leave.  If 

she did, she would have discussed it with Grissom first."

"How did she get along with the people at work? Any disagreements or was 

she involved with anyone?"

"No, Sara's very professional in that regard."

"Did she ever talk about her personal life, friends or family ?"

"No, not to me."

Although Warrick Brown was far less of an open book than Nick Stokes, he too 

seemed to be concerned.

Exhausted from hours of talking to the people in Sara's life, Jack met up 

with Martin at the CSI lab.

"I talked to the parents, but they have no idea what is going on in their 

daughter's life.  Apparently they have very little contact with her.  Hank 

Peddigrew is the ex-boyfriend.  According to him they dated for almost a year, 

but the relationship never got serious.  On an interesting side note: he's a 

got a fiancée, Elaine Alcott.  She works for an insurance company.  But both 

their alibis checked out.  I had the LVPD do some more checking"  Martin 

rattled off the outcome of half a day of investigative work.  Half a day and 

no leads.  So far their best bet was Dr.  Grissom and they were far from 

having anything tangible on him.  They could only hope that Danny and Vivian 

were having better luck in New York.

"Did Dr.  Grissom tell you about Sara having problems on her latest case?

"No, he never mentioned it" Martin frowned, seeing his suspicions confirmed.

"We better talk to him again."

At the front desk they learned that Gil Grissom was in the building at the 

moment.  They found him in his office, bent over crime scene photographs.

"Dr.  Grissom?" Jack knocked on the doorframe.

He didn't seem to have noticed them.  Jack repeated the gesture, speaking 

louder this time.  "I'm special Agent Malone with the FBI;  you've met Agent 

Fitzgerald before.  We have some more questions about the last time you saw 

Sara."

Grissom nodded, his expression stoic.

"Did you know that Sara went back to the lab the next morning?"

For a brief moment Grissom's face showed utter surprise.  Jack was almost 

certain that Grissom had not known that before now.  Although he too got the 

impression that Grissom was hiding something, it probably wasn't what Martin 

was thinking.

"No, I didn't know that.  I had the day off." Grissom answered the question.

"Have you any idea what she might have wanted?" Martin asked.

"No."

"We've been talking to Detective Brass.  According to him he mentioned to you 

that Sara acted in a very uncharacteristic way during the last 

investigation.  He said that she endangered herself and others through her 

reckless actions.  When you saw Sara at the end of her shift, did you 

confront her about it?"

"I mentioned it, but she insisted that she was fine."

Jack had been watching the exchange silently.  He had an idea of what Dr.  

Grissom was hiding and decided to test it.  He got up from the chair and 

deliberately turned toward Martin while speaking.

"Do you think that the explosion in the lab might have triggered Sara's 

unusual behavior?" Jack turned back to Grissom, watching him intently.

"Dr.  Grissom, do you have a problem with your hearing?"

Grissom nodded.  "It's a progressive disease." His tone was neutral, almost 

light, as he if was relieved to be able to admit to it.  Jack was fairly 

sure about the answer to his next question.

"Does Sara or anyone here at the lab know about this?"

"No, no one here knows.  It didn't come up when I last saw Sara."

"Then what did come up? "

A pause.

"Sara asked me out to dinner.  I declined." Jack got the impression that 

there was a tinge of regret in Grissom's voice.  But maybe, he thought, that 

was just his projection of his own situation on the case.  With the trouble 

he was having separating his personal life from the case, it wouldn't 

surprise him.

"Were the two of you ever romantically involved?" It felt wrong to ask 

another man that question when he was guilty of the same act.  He was putting 

Grissom in the same position that Farrell had tried to put him into.

"No, we weren't."

"Do you believe him?" Martin asked as they were on their way to the parking 

lot.

"Yes, I think he's telling the truth.  He doesn't have a motive.  He might be 

part of the reason why she left though.  She suffers from shock after the 

explosion, then the situation at the crime scene, then she's turned down.  It 

might have been enough to push here over the edge."

"I meant about not having been involved with her?" Martin clarified.

"He might have wanted to be, but I don't think he has ever acted on it." The 

parallels and differences to his own situation were almost painful.  He was 

still drawn to Samantha, but didn't dare to act on it.

Martin didn't immediately reply.

"Well, if he isn't our guy, then who else? I don't think anyone we have 

talked to is a suspect either.  No one knew her well.  But one thing keeps 

bothering me: why did she come back to the crime lab right before she left 

the city? By then she had already made up her mind."

"Maybe she just wanted to say good-bye."

Maybe that was also part of why he had to his family's apartment that one 

morning.   Because he knew it was over and he needed to say good-bye in a 

symbolic way? Jack still wasn't sure what to think.  What he was thinking and 

what he was feeling were two different things.  It seemed impossible to ever 

find a compromise between the two.

Martin and Jack left Las Vegas the same night, there was nothing left for 

them to do in Las Vegas.  They now knew what Sara Sidle's life was about.  

Work was at the centre of everything.

Jack was surprised that the concept of a devoted workaholic was so alien to 

him.  After all year-long passion for his work had often taken priority over 

everything else, his free time, his wife, his daughters.  He had made more 

sacrifices for his work than he cared to admit.  Maria had once told him that 

he was only truly in love with his job.  She hadn't been wrong.

_Crime Lab Gil Grissom's Office, Las Vegas_

_May 15, 1 a.m._

Gil Grissom stayed in his office for the rest of the shift.  Things were 

going slow at any rate.  He knew that the team could probably use him right 

now.  Everyone was still shocked about what the had learned in the past 

hours.  He himself had difficulty fully grasping it yet.  Sara had wanted to 

leave CSI.  She didn't tell anyone about it and now she had disappeared.  How 

could this happen? As soon as that thought had crossed his mind, he saw all 

the grizzly possibilities.  On the job, he saw things like that happen every 

day.  He couldn't help but feel guilty over whatever had driven Sara leave 

everything that he thought was important to her behind.

Maybe she had been more affected by the explosion than he had thought.  He 

should have put her on leave immediately, he should have insisted that she 

take some time for herself.  Now he saw all the signs of shock: the 

confusion, erratic behaviour.  Why had he been so blind to them? He had been 

so determined to solve the case that he had lost perspective about what else 

was going on in his lab.  In that regard he had failed as a supervisor.

_tbc_


	4. Chapter 4

_Running_ _Disclaimer: CSI and Without a Trace are the property of their respective owners. I own nothing._ _Spoilers: CSI up to Play with Fire, WaT first season_

Summary: WIP. CSI / WaT crossover. Set after CSI PwF and WaT Fallout 2. It's easier to run than to act.

_A/N: Thanks to all the great people hanging out at Maple Street. You're amazing. But most of all thank to D for reading through this and telling me what actually works._

_FBI Missing Persons Unit, New York City_

_May 14, 4.30 p.m._

"How is the video analysis coming?" Vivian

Danny paused the tape and looked up.

"My head hurts from hours of staring at the bad picture, but I know that she checked in at 2.45 p.m. as the receptionist said, and then left at 3.20 p.m. to go to the hotel shop to buy the newspaper. I've gone through the tape until 2 a.m., so far nothing. No one was meeting here, nothing suspicious in the lobby, but it's hard to tell. A/V is working on enhancing the image right now."

"That doesn't tally. The aspirin was found in her room, as was the newspaper. Is there any angle that the camera doesn't cover?" Vivian asked.

"No, it's all there. The tapes from the shops are inconclusive. The hotel 

shop shows Sara buying the newspaper, alone. The pharmacy tape is a waste of 

money. The angle makes it near impossible to see any faces. He pointed to a 

second monitor. This is Sara, at least that's when her credit card was 

used." He handed Vivian a printout of a woman standing with her back to the 

camera.

"At least her clothes look like a match. But I'll send someone over there 

and have her look at Sara's picture again to make sure. Anything else?"

"No, but I'm having the A/V guys trying to pull all the faces from the tapes 

to compare against Dr. Watts and the database. That's going to take a while 

longer. But it's the only way we might get something on the guy."

"We already have something. I ran the usual on him and he made a call to a 

restaurant downtown at 4 p.m. the day that Sara disappeared. I've called and 

they confirmed that he reserved a table for two and showed up in company of 

a young woman fitting Sara's description. Forensics is still working on the 

blood. Nothing from trace evidence. The place is full of fibres but 

nothing special. Just what you'd expect in a hotel room."

_Ali's Kebap Place, New York City_

_May 14, 6.35 p.m._

"Pretty dingy place. Not what I'd expect from the good doctor." Danny 

commented as the walked up to the restaurant.

"Just the place for the stealthy lovers' meeting." Vivian smiled.

"Yes, I remember them. They were here early around 5.30 p.m. maybe, before 

the dinner rush. I remember them because she has trouble with her hand, 

dropped a glass and cut herself pretty bad on it." The waiter told them.

"What else do you remember?" Vivian asked for details.

"They arrived together, talked a lot,  but they were talking quietly, I 

didn't hear what is was about. Suddenly, she got up and left half-way 

through the meal. He paid and then left as well. They were in here only 

about 30 minutes."

"Did he pay in cash?"

"I think so. But I can check that for you."

"What did they have? Any alcohol?"

The waiter thought for a moment.

"He had red wine, I think. She... I'm not sure, but I can look that up for 

you."

"Yes, please."

The waiter left for the back room.

Danny laid out a possible scenario of Sara's last hours. "I'm starting to really like the doctor. He hasn't seen her for years, they meet up and he does something to piss her off. She leaves. He pays, goes after her, catches up with her; they  fight and it gets out hand, he kills her, panics and dumps the body. Central Park is big enough for that." 

"As much as I like that theory, she did make it back to the hotel after 

dinner. And he called her again. We know that she left the hotel again after 

11 p.m."

"It's all of no use. We have to talk to Dr. Watts again; this time he 

better get his story straight." Danny was frustrated. They were walking in 

circles. Their only hope was that Jack and Martin had better luck in Las 

Vegas. Either way they were running out of time.

"Lying to a federal officer. Could lose him his job already. I think we 

better mention this to Dr. Watts." Danny had been thinking.

The waiter returned with a receipt.

"Here is it. the list of what they ordered. She ordered mineral water and 

soup.

"Thank you. Is there anything else that you recall? Any small detail, a 

part of their conversation?"

"They talked about a new position, I recall hearing San Francisco mentioned. 

But that's about it."

"One last thing: did they seem like a couple?"

"Not at all. More like colleagues, business partners. They didn't seem 

very close. They certainly didn't flirt," the waiter knew what he was 

talking about.

"Thank you."

Danny and Vivian left the restaurant again. What they had learned didn't 

confirm the direction their investigation had taken so far. Other than 

Sara's abrupt departure, there was nothing to indicated any implication of 

Dr. Watts.

We still have a blank spot in our time line. She left the restaurant at 

around 6 p.m. and never gets back to the hotel, yet her jacket and 

newspaper do. But Dr. Watts is nowhere on that tape."

"He could have had an accomplice. But that would mean he planned it and she 

only got here on short notice." Danny shook his head. The case wasn't making 

any sense.

"What do we do now? We can't get a warrant for Dr. Watts's house. The fact 

that the waiter didn't see them fight... if it isn't on the tape we can say 

good-bye to our warrant."

"Doesn't help that he's the vice-director of the crime lab either. We 

won't get the warrant until he cops to anything. Danny sighed. So we'll pay 

him another visit, confront him about her leaving, and hope that he 

gives something up."

"Assuming there is something to give up. It might have been nothing."

"You heard him, he's lying, we know that. He's got to be hiding something. A 

friendly dinner isn't a motive.

"There are people who happen to be married, Danny."

Vivian's cell-phone rang and she picked it up. "Yeah. When was that?" Vivian 

scribbled down notes, while listening.

"No, we'd like to talk to her. We'll be there in 15 minutes. Bye."

"We just got a hit on Sara's credit card. A girl tried to use it at 

drugstore. The cashier wanted to see an ID, she ran. Left the card. 

Forensics got her prints off the card. I'm going over there now to talk 

to the cashier."

"We got a name on the girl?"

"Yes, name and address were on the database." Vivian handed him a piece of 

paper.

"That's just around the corner. I'll pay her a visit and see whether I can't 

convince her to share her wisdom with us."

"We'll stay in touch. I'll have Dr. Watts brought in later."

_Downtown apartment building, New York City_

_May 14, 7.30 p.m._

Danny was panting from climbing five flights of stairs. At the address 

nobody had been home, which wasn't surprising. The apartment had been open. 

Typical of drug users, it was devoid of anything of value. In order to 

finance their habit, they sold all possessions of value from the stereo to 

the clothes iron. At this time of the night she was probably busy making 

her living, one way or another. His frustration was the case was growing by 

the minute. They were treading water. When he stepped back out in the 

street, he immediately saw something that that triggered an alarm inside his 

head. In the twilight of the street, three teenagers were keenly eying the 

government car he had parked in front of the building. Unconsciously 

feeling for his gun, he approached the group.

The group had noticed his approach as well and a girl, dressed in hooker 

fashion, walked towards him, obviously acting as spokesperson for the group 

while her friends stayed in the backgroud. She closely resembled the 

description from the police record that Vivian had given him.

"That your car?" She asked in a mock-sweet tone.

"Yep." He continued on his way undeterred.

The girl moved directly in his way, her friends closing in as well.

"It's a pretty car." She laughed a high-pitched laugh. "That's why we picked 

it for a little ride." She came another step closer.

Danny didn't like the turn this was taking. He had been exhausted before but 

now the adrenaline had him wide-awake. He cursed not having called the 

police for back-up before chasing after their latest lead.

"Why don't we, say, take it for a little ride." She reached under her 

mini-skirt and pulled out a switchblade knife. The blade glinted in the dim 

light of the streetlamp. Danny quickly ran the mental odds. He was 

confident that he could pull his gun faster than she could stab him, but 

that wouldn't prevent him from getting cut. Possibly badly. Besides he had 

no way of knowing how heavily armed her friends were. Danny had another 

tactic in mind. Slowly, trying not to provoke her, he opened the car door.

"You wanna go for a ride, then get in." he tried to sound as confident as 

ever, hiding the fear he would never admit to anyone.

The girl wrinkled her forehead in confusion, but kept a firm grasp on the 

knife.

"You afraid to be seen with a guy like me?" he teased, hoping that his plan 

would work out and he wasn't going too far.

"I'm not afraid of nothing." She snapped, eyeing him and the car at the 

same time, trying to figure out what to make of the situation. Danny saw his 

chance and went for his gun. He was a fraction of a second too late however, 

the girl had picked up on what he was doing and plunged the knife in his 

direction. Instinctively he dodged, sending a gunshot straight into the air, 

missing any living target by far. But it had the desired effect. The young 

men run as fast as they could, wanting to get out before it got nasty. Danny 

used the momentary distraction caused by the shot to yank the girls arms 

back, causing her to drop the knife to the pavement with a clatter.

"You're coming to the station." Danny told her as he handcuffed her.

"Oh crap." Danny cursed and pulled out his cell phone. His day out gone from 

just trying and fruitless to seriously bad.

Only now did he feel a stinging pain and spotted the bleeding gash in his 

forearm. Another jacket and shirt were lost to the perils of crime 

fighting.

_FBI Missing Persons Unit, New York City_

_May 15, 2 a.m._

When Danny finally returned to the office after having paid a visit to the 

ER and then to the police station, Martin and Jack were back from Las Vegas, 

sitting in the conference room with Vivian. He mentally steeled himself for 

the wrath that was to come for not taking back-up with him.

"How nice of you to join us again." Vivian greeted him.

"Everything all right?" Jack sounded more tired and concerned than pissed 

off. Danny was taken aback at that.

"Yeah. Had a run in with the local youth."

"So, we've heard." Martin couldn't hide a smirk. At least someone was still 

the same.

He sat down.

"The girl claims that she found the wallet in the trash and decided to give 

the credit card a try. She's in lock-up now for attempted assault. 

Forensics is going over her clothes and the knife. She says she found the 

wallet in the trash near the hotel and decided to give it a try. She and her 

friends seem to be living quite well from small-time drug dealing, so she 

might be telling the truth. But I certainly wouldn't put robbery beyond her. 

She hasn't been arrested for anything like robbery before though." Danny 

yawned. It had been a long day and his arm was stinging.

"How did it go with the doctor?" He asked referring to their prime suspect.

"Not at all. He lawyered up. Claims that he lied about them having dinner 

because he's got a jealous wife and was afraid she'd think he was having an 

affair. Other than that he's saying nothing."

"You buy that." Danny commented.

"There's nothing people won't do to cover up an affair." Vivian said dryly.

After the rest of the team had left, Jack was still reading over all they 

had on the case, mentally going through each statement he had heard. Nothing 

made sense, the puzzle remained incomplete. He had been so absorbed that he 

hadn't heard Vivian coming in. Jack was surprised that she was still at the 

office. After all she had a family. So had he, his mind reminded him 

sternly.

"That's it, Jack. I think we'll have to let that one go. We have no 

definitive indication that Sara was a victim of foul play. It rather looks 

like she had enough of her life and just wanted to get away.

"There are too many loose ends, Viv. Who brought her things back to the 

hotel room? Why would she leave her jacket and suitcase behind but take the 

bag with her? Why did she dump the bag later?" Jack asked. "According to 

everyone we talked to Sara wouldn't do anything like that."

"You also said that nobody really knew her. Jack, she's been missing for 

over 80 hours now and we are out of leads. I hate to let this one go as much 

as you do. But we can't find everyone. It's late. Get some sleep."

" I will, I just need to finished something here."

"Good night." Vivian stood in the door for a while, as if there was something else she wanted to say, but then didn't.

Jack got himself another cup of coffee. It wasn't just the case that held 

him captive. This was another form of escape, a way of putting off dealing 

with Samantha. For a while he had been planning on paying her a visit. But as soon as he had set foot in the office, he had know that he would put off his plans yet again. Work was such a convenient excuse, one that he has used all too often during his years with Maria. But it wasn't an excuse that was going to work with Samantha. The longer he put things off the harder it was going to be, for both of them.

He sat back down at his desk. There had to be something that they missed. If 

Dr. Watts was indeed telling them the truth, then there was another unknown 

who was on that surveillance tape. He visualized the scene. Someone had 

brought Sara's jacket and purchases up to her hotel room. Regardless of the 

circumstances that much they knew. The jacket, the paper, the aspirin. The 

woman on the tape from the pharmacy had worn Sara's jacket. Assuming that 

this was the same person who had gone up to the room, he should be able to 

spot the jacket on the hotel surveillance. Jack went back to the monitor and 

half an hour later, he had found what he was looking for.

_tbc_


	5. Chapter 5

_Running_ _Disclaimer: CSI and Without a Trace are the property of their respective owners. I own nothing._ _Spoilers: CSI up to Play with Fire, WaT first season_

Summary: WIP. CSI / WaT crossover. Set after CSI PwF and WaT Fallout 2. It's easier to run than to act.

_A/N: I owe big thanks to D for making sense of my English. And of course the Maple Street gang, the most amazing group I've ever been part of._

_FBI Missing Persons Unit_

_May 15, 4.45 a.m._

Jack examined the magnified image of the woman wearing Sara's jacket. It was

definitely not the young woman who had attacked Danny the previous night. 

The woman in the printout was middle aged, at least forty-five, probably 

older; she had long dark hair and was wearing sunglasses. Not good chances of identifying her. But she was wearing the same jacket that was missing from Sara's belongings, and that made her the only lead in case they were about to lose. A woman, that didn't fit into their investigation. They had assumed that her disappearance was either linked to her work -- but that angle had turned out to be a dead end -- or that it was linked to the men her life. Sara didn't have any close female friends and no female acquaintances in the

New York City area. A random kidnapping, if the victim wasn't a child, by a 

woman was extremely rare. Besides, even though he was still in the dark about the 

exact timeline, the fact that this mystery woman had gone back to the hotel in 

Sara's place, suggested something personal. It also hinted at her working with an 

accomplice. Probably with a man.

He recalled something that Dr. Watts had told them the previous day during

questioning.

_"My wife is extremely jealous. If she sees me just  talking to another woman _

_she'll think  that I'm having an affair."_

_"That's why I lied. I was afraid that my wife would find out and would think _

_that I'm cheating on her with Sara. But that's not what happened."_

_"Then what did happen?"_

_"I already told you."_

_"Humor me."_

_"We were at the restaurant. Sara wasn't feeling very well; she left early. I went home_

_and called her later to ask whether she was all right. I was simply worried about her. That's the last time I talked to her."_

The wife, Christine Watts. It was possible, she'd have a motive. So far the 

only one. But there was a slight problem; she was supposedly in Phoenix at the 

moment.

Jack got up, filled with renewed energy. It was the familiar rush of an 

Important discovery on a case. Years of routine had not managed to dull this feeling. 

It was part of what kept him doing his job. That and the hope that they would a find a 

Person alive. He reached for the phone to call forensics. If this woman had indeed 

been in Sara's hotel room after Sara had disappeared than some of the evidence they had found there would point to her. Now that he had a suspect, Christine Watts, 

there was something to compare the collected evidence against. Having made the call, Jack checked his watch, just past 5.30 a.m., the team would get here for another 

hour and a half and the forensic test would take time as well. Without evidence linking Christine Watts to Sara's disappearance, they were just going to run into a legal stonewall.

Jack reached for another cup of coffee, trying to fight off fatigue. Right 

now he missed Samantha's investigative insight into the case. The truth was he 

missed so much more about her. The longer he avoided putting it all on the table, the 

more he feared that he might still lose her. He couldn't help a cynical smile about 

his attachment to a woman with whom it was supposedly over. That was a lie and 

no matter how often he told it to himself and others, it wasn't coming true. His 

mind still refused to believe it.

And when push had come to shove, he had risked everything for

her. As Maria had said, that showed him where his priorities were. He had already

gone part of the way by trading his life for hers, but now he was running away from

the repercussions. He felt trapped; throughout this case, his mind had wandered back to the same, by now almost familiar, places. Jack got up and looked out 

the window. This had to end. He couldn't run from his life forever, hiding out at work. 

His first priority remained to find the missing woman; that was why he walked into 

that office every day. That would always be his priority. But after this case, which was 

coming to a close one way or another now that Sara had been missing for almost 90 

hours, he had to tackle his personal matters.

_FBI Missing Persons Unit, New York City_

_May 15, 7.15 a.m._

"That's what we have now. This woman used Sara's key card to enter her 

hotel room at around 10.15 p.m. uses her credit card to buy aspirin and she leaves 

the jacket behind in the hotel room when she leaves at 11.50 p.m.."

"We found her prints on Sara's cell phone, as well as partial prints in the 

bathroom and on the key card. So sometime between 6 p.m. and 8 p.m. she must have come into possession of Sara's jacket, keys, bag and cell-phone." Jack marked the time frame on the white board.

"Sorry, I'm late." Danny entered to conference room. "I just talked a guy 

from ID. They have the prints on file. She's Christina Watts, the wife of Dr. Robert 

Watts. In 1998 she was arrested for assaulting Mandy Black. I've pulled the report; 

it doesn't give any specifics, but she assaulted that woman in the bedroom of her home. One guess what she was doing there. Christine didn't have a previous record, the court ordered her to undergo anger management therapy and she didn't do any time."

"She sounds like our woman. Maybe her husband did take Sara home, she 

surprises them and there is a fight. Sara's injured or killed, they both panic and try 

to figure out a way to stage her disappearance. "

"But going back to the hotel posing as Sara. That's a long shot." Martin had 

his doubts.

"Maybe, but not when we considering who's involved. Dr. Watts is the vice 

director of the crime lab, he knows what we're going to look for. But staging her 

time of disappearance, he blurs to connection to himself. Think about it, it was all 

very deliberate, using her credit card, using the cell phone, leaving the jacket 

behind. All done to throw us off track." Vivian suggested.

"Ingenious plan, but it must have gone wrong somewhere. How did the blood 

get into the bathroom? We know it isn't Sara's. The DNA doesn't match the data 

Vegas sent us." Danny remarked.

"We have to find Christine Watts. Then we'll know."

"So how do we get her?"

"We need everything on her: financials, properties, where her parents 

live; I want it all. Danny, you'll be on that. Viv and Martin, I want you to talk to her 

employer about that business trip she was supposedly on, see of she has any friends who might know something. I'll try to get to the husband." Jack handed out assignments.

"The lethargy of the previous night had been replaced by renewed hope. But one thing remained unsaid: if they were right about the scenario, Sara's chances of being alive were very small."

_Decker Food Technologies, New York City_

_May 15, 8.40 a.m._

"The conference in Phoenix? That was cancelled. We flew out there all for 

nothing,

just because they didn't inform us on time. That would have been the least 

they could do. But no,we had to show up there to learn that it has been cancelled a day earlier." The woman was exasperated at the memory.

"Did you return on the same day?" Vivian asked, noting down the answers.

"No, it was too late, the earliest tickets we got were for the next 

morning."

"How did Christine seem on the trip? Did she say were she was going when you 

got back?"

"She was angry, but how wouldn't be. I think she went home. Why?"

"Just some routine questions. How well do you know Christine? Do you know 

her husband?"

"We're friends, we go to the gym together after work. I've never met her 

husband, but that's just his luck. He's supposed to be a real piece of work. Always on 

the look-out for his next conquest."

"So Christine told her that her husband was having an affair?" Vivian asked, 

having her own idea of what was going on in Christine's marriage.

"One? The guy has been cheating on her for years, she told me. I frankly 

don't understand why she even stayed with him."

_FBI Missing Persons Unit_

_May 15, 9.20 p.m._

Danny wasn't too happy about being parked at the office doing the telephone 

Work now that the case was in a hot phase. But the stitches in his arm still 

hurt, so he didn't mind being able to sit at a desk for a change. He had managed to pull all the relevant information on Christine Watts. He dialed Jack's cell phone number.

"Jack, it's Danny."

"What do you have?"

"I ran her financials. She went to Phoenix, but only stayed there for one 

night, according to the credit card records. There are a couple of credit card 

charges in the last few days, all from here in the city. Several are interesting: she 

refilled a prescription for sleeping pills and bought several over-the-counter 

medications, mostly painkillers: ibuprofen and aspirin. This morning she bought a plane ticket to Lima, Peru. No return ticket. She has some property; three months ago she inherited a house from her mother. She hasn't sold it and there is no indication that she is receiving any rent for it. I've had NYPD send out a patrol, they found her car in the driveway. I told them to wait for you."

"Thanks. I'm not getting anything from Dr. Watts. Call Martin and Viv and 

meet us at the parent's house."

_Watts Residence New York City_

_May 15, 9.50 a.m._

The house was suburban, hidden behind a high wall of shrubs.

A patrol car was parked further down the street, out of sight from the 

house. NYPD officers were already waiting there for them. They were donning Kevlar vests while Officer Lauber from the NYPD explained the situation so far.

"Nothing has moved in there as far as we can tell, but all the blinds are 

drawn. There are two exits -- the front door and a door leading into the backyard. We've talked to a few neighbours but nothing useful. Most people are at work all day here. They recall that the car has been here for most of the last three days."

"That fits." Martin commented.

"Your sharpshooters are in place, but it's not very accessible. You'll have 

to get her outside."

Jack nodded. "Okay, we're all set." He addressed his team.

As they approached the house, Jack felt a strange apprehension. He had 

entered into situation like the one here many times before and while they always made him tense and slightly nervous, he couldn't recall when he had last felt so 

reluctant, almost scared. He had gone into that bookshop four days ago, thereby taking a much bigger risk than now and he hadn't been that scared. He had a hard time placing the feeling. The memory of Barry Mashburn holding a gun to his head kept resurfacing, in spite of his attempts to focus.

"Jack? You all right?" Vivian asked, her concerned tone intruding on his 

dark thoughts.

"I'm fine." Jack snapped, recovering his composure "Viv and 

Danny you cover the back. Martin, you're with me."

"Christine Watts? FBI, please open the door." Jack banged on the front door. 

Nothing, then the sound of something falling over inside, then someone yelling, a muffled scream.

The house was barely furnished anymore. The corridor into which the front 

door led was devoid of any furniture.

"Don't move. Or I'll kill her." A quivering voice called out from the 

backroom. "I'll do it."

Jack motioned for Martin stand down. He was just about to advance further into the

house when Christine Watts appeared in the doorframe. She looked very different

from the woman on the surveillance video. Her clothes looked like she'd been

sleeping in them, her hair was in disarray, her face flushed. She was 

clutching a large caliber gun with one hand. With her other arm she was holding Sara, who looked dazed and barely able to stand up. Sara seemed dazed, barely aware of what was happening. Drugged maybe. She wouldn't be able to run or take cover should the situation escalate. The large gash on her forehead was new, it hadn't been on the surveillance videos.

"Put your guns down." Christine yelled, her hand shaking nervously.

Martin saw that the situation was volatile. Christine was on the edge

already. The fact that Sara was still alive after several days showed them 

that she had no intention to kill her. However any individual pushed to far was capable of murder, that Martin had learned so far.

"Just take it easy. We're going to put our weapons down very slowly." 

Martin told her in a calm voice, following protocol for a situation like this. He eyed the 

woman in front of them, wanting to make sure that she knew what they were about to 

do.

"Okay?" he tentatively asked.

"Just do it!" She yelled in response, struggling to keep Sara standing up.

Martin prepared to slowly bend to put his gun down when he glanced over at 

Jack, who hadn't moved at all. What the hell was he playing at? Martin didn't know 

what to do now. What was Jack expecting him to do?


	6. Chapter 6

_Running _

_ Disclaimer: CSI and Without a Trace are the property of their respective owners.  I own nothing.    _

_Spoilers: CSI up to Play with Fire, WaT first season _

_Summary: WIP.  CSI / WaT crossover.  Set after CSI PwF and WaT Fallout 2.  It's easier to run than to act._

_A/N: Thanks to Maple Street, the most amazing corner of the internet.  This chapter hasn't been beta-read because D is on vacation.  I hope you guys still enjoy it._

_Outside of the Watts residence, New York City_

_May 15, 9.56 a.m._

Three shots ripped apart the tense silence over the area.  

Alarmed Vivian and Danny looked at each other, the same thoughts running through their heads.  Who had fired the shots?

"Cover the back! I'll go front." Vivian hissed, quickly making her way to the open front door.

The few meters to the front door seemed to take hour to traverse.  Vivian carefully approached the door, gun drawn, not knowing what would await her inside.  She listened at the open front door, hearing Jack's familiar voice from inside.  

"Calm down.  You're going to be fine.  I need to take a look." Who was he talking too? Vivian was puzzled.  She indicated the officers standing by that she was going to go in.  The first thing she saw was Jack at the far end of the corridor, kneeling on the floor next to Martin.  The two woman were on the floor as well.  Vivian immediately knew that something had gone very wrong.  Jack looked up, having noticed her presence.

"Get the paramedics.  Martin got shot." Jack sounded oddly calm and business-like.

 "Christine Watts is dead" he added, nodding in the direction of the living room to the living room.

Within seconds a frenzy of activity descended upon the formerly quite suburban house.

_Someplace, sometime_

Everything was full of noises that wouldn't stop, noise that was making her head hurt to the point of bringing tears to her eyes.  Sara needed to get away from the noise, get away from her, the woman with the cold voice.  Her mind screamed at her to get away from this hell, but her weakened muscles wouldn't comply.  No matter how desperately she tried, she was working on willpower alone and that wasn't enough to defeat gravity.  Suddenly, the vain struggle ended and a force pulled her upward her into a sitting position.  Her first instinct was to escape, get away from the hostile hands, but they wouldn't let her.  Panic rose again, as she fought the firm grasp.

"Calm down.  It's okay, Sara.  You're safe now."

A voice, very different, from the shrill and cold voice she had come to fear over the past three days.  Sara halted her efforts, looking up to located the source of the voice.

She didn't see the face that had come to haunt her.  She was looking at the blurry form of a woman's face.  But it wasn't her kidnapper's face. It was a reassuring face.

 "You're going to be fine.  Helps on the way."

The words and the voice reassured her.  She wasn't sure what had just happened, it had all passed on a blurry haze, when suddenly something had exploded, sending her crashing to the floor.  The lab had exploded? Sara was confused, lost between scrambled memories and perceptions.

"It's going to be all right.  Just relax."

The reassuring voice was still there.  Sara wanted to believe her.  Black fog was rising all around her, clouding her vision and inviting her to just give in and close her eyes.

"It's over."

Sara believed the voice and welcomed the darkness, escaping the horrors of the past three days.

_Watts Residence, New York City_

_May 15, 11 a.m._

The characteristic smells of blood and gunpowder were hanging over the scene, which now that the buzz of activity had disappeared, had taken on a surreal quality.

"She was keeping her here.  She drugged Sara using the sleeping pills." Danny pointed to the container on the night stand.  "But what I don't understand is what she was planning on doing with her.  She never send a ransom note, but she didn't kill Sara either.  Looks like she even bought painkillers for her." Danny examined the other bottles on the nightstand.

"My guess is that she was in panic.  Maybe she encounter Sara with her husband and things hot out of hand.  Sara's badly injured, but she's too scared to call it in.  She can't decided what to do with her." Vivian shrugged.

"No wonder she was with her nerves on edge.  You think her husband knew what was going on?"

"Definitely, alone she would have been in too much panic to come up with the plan of going back to the hotel and staging a scene there.  He's in it too."

"But we won't ever be able to prove that.  The wife's dead  and he's all going to blame it on her." Danny said angrily.

"I talked to the paramedic earlier, he said that Sara's injuries apparently aren't life threatening.  She's going to make it.  But still, there's no way of telling how much she can give us to nail Dr. Watts.  I'm going to call the hospital later to get an update and see how Martin's doing." 

Danny said nothing, he too was more worried about Martin than he let on.

"I think we can have forensic go over the house now.  Maybe they'll be able to tell us more.  We need to get back to the office.,.

Paperwork is always waiting.  Danny said grimly.  Any shooting left a trail of paperwork in its wake, but when an officer has been injured it doubled.  Additionally, the entire incident would be picked apart by OPR who seemed to be always trying to find a scapegoat.

_Mount Sinai Hospital, New York City_

_May 15, 3.45 p.m._

Jack was sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair, sipping lukewarm coffee from a Styrofoam cup.  Every muscle in his body ached.  Lack of sleep and the waning adrenaline rush were taking its toll.  While his body was craving rest, his mind was kicking into overdrive, thoughts and images chasing one another at a frenzied pace.  

_*When Christine Watts had pointed to gun at the in the house, his world had suddenly disappeared.  That was the only way he could describe it.  All he could see was the gun, a deadly construction made of black metal.  Who was holding it didn't matter.  Everything else was suddenly gone, and he had found himself staring a the gun, utterly powerless to look away or even move.  No words or reasonable thought would have been able to break In his mind he had gone right back to the moment when Barry Mashburn had been holding a gun to his forehead.  Even the vague replay of the memory had him frozen to the spot.  There had been a small voice in his head, urging him to do something, anything, but it had been too soft and too weak to have any effect.  Now in retrospect, he saw that he could only have stood there frozen for seconds, but it had seemed like a timeless eternity.  The unmistakable sound of a shot fired had broken into the mental hell, where he'd been trapped, unable to escape the memory.  Before he could fully process the input, he'd been thrown off his feet and before he'd hit the ground a second shot made his ears ring.  He wasn't sure what he brought him back into reality; the sound of gunfire or the tumble to the ground.  But when he had looked up at Christine Watts, her gun trained on him and Martin, he'd done as his training demanded and fired his gun.  Luckily, even through his fall, he had managed to hold on to it._

_Only then he took in what had happened; the force that had pushed him to the ground had been Martin, who was now a dead weight on top of him.  _

_Martin groaned in pain, panic on his face as he gasped for air.  Jack carefully turned him on his back, searching for injuries, while trying to get him to calm down.  _

_Then, Vivian had come rushing in, followed by the paramedics.  Nobody had asked him any questions on the scene and he doubted that they had any idea of what had really happened.  It could have been an accident, but it hadn't been.*_

The unexplainable fixation on the gun had been broken in time, but the knowledge that it could happen again was there.  He knew what that meant.  Another OPR investigation, being suspended at best, fired  at worst.  Worse than the professional consequences would be the personal fallout.  He'd endangered the lives of the missing woman and his team members.  He'd gotten Martin shot because he had frozen up at a scene.  The vest had taken the hit.  While bullet proof vests protected from most bullets, they couldn't protect the wearer from the energy of the hit.  It was just spread over a larger area of the body.  Bruises, broken bones and internal injuries could still result from a shot.  But it was no use worrying about it no.  It had happened.

He sighed, turning his attention back to the grey hospital corridor.  He was just about to get up to get another cup of coffee, when he saw Martin was coming his way.  He was walking slowly, his movements stiff.  He was obviously in significant pain.

Jack got up, relived to see him.

"Martin, how are you?"

"I'll be okay.  Bruises and a cracked a rib." Martin flinched.

"I'm sorry." Jack said, not sure what to say in light of what had happened at the house.

"Sorry?" Martin's tone changed.  "What the hell were you doing back there? She was going to shot both of us because you apparently lost it." Martin was furious, but had to pause to catch his breath.  

If you aren't fit for duty and you go out in the field, you're gambling with everyone's lives Jack.  It isn't your decision.  You have no right to do that.  Just admit that you can't deal with it.  You should have stayed out of it from the beginning., I heard what Van Doren asked you.  You were lying, we both know that.  You never should have gone in there.  It's none of my business what you and Samantha have going, but if it means that you are too caught up in it's my business.  You could have gotten me and Sara killed.  With your life you can do whatever you want.  I don't know what I was thinking pushing you down.  You obviously don't care about yourself.  Just don't gamble with other people's lives.  Get your fucking business sorted!" Martin yelled, wheezing, his face red from the effort.

"You're way out of line, Martin." Jack said, straining to keep his voice calm.  He couldn't afford to loose it now.  He walked away, leaving the other man standing in the hallway.  Already has he had said the last words, his anger had started to cool down a bit.  They were all pretty rattled after the shooting.  He would deal with Martin later when they had both had a chance to cool their heads a bit.  Just then his pager went off.  He checked the message; it was from Van Doren, telling him that she wanted to see him as soon as possible at the office.  He had a pretty good idea what she was going to say and the prospect was everything but pleasant.  But there was no getting out of it, but before he had to do something else, something he had already put off too long.  Asking the receptionist for the relevant information, he found his way to the eighth floor.  Standing in front of room 845, he took a deep breath, mentally berating himself for being so nervous.

Samantha was in a semi-sitting position in bed, reading something.  She looked up when he comes in.

"Jack?" She sounded surprised, like she didn't except him to come.  Considering that it has taken him a good three days, he couldn't blame her.

"Samantha.  How are you?" he asked, sitting down on a chair next to the bed.

It was the wrong question, he knew it before she said another word.  Samantha frowned, looking at him, her expression changing from surprised to angry.  The second time this happened during a conversation.

"You ask about that now? I had to hear from Vivian and Martin that you made it out of there alive.  After you didn't think to even drop by once.  I've gotten visits by agents from the office that I've hardly ever spoken to.  But not you.  I don't get it.  Didn't it occur to you that I was worried about you?"  Samantha almost yelled at him.

Jack didn't say anything.  He should have expected that.  He hadn't been there for her when he should have been.  He wasn't sure he could forgive himself for that, so how could he assume that she would?__

Silence; neither of them said anything or looked at the other.

"I'm sorry.  I've been on the edge the last few days." She broke the silence in a small voice.  She didn't look up.  "It's just when I didn't see you at the hospital, I thought you hadn't made it out.  I thought that you …" She broke off, leaving the sentence dangling.

"I couldn't stand that thought, It made me think about all that I'd lose without you." She finally looked at him.  

"Besides, I've been going stir crazy in here." She added in a tone she hoped would seem light.

Jack just looked at her.  Then taking her hand, he said: "You have nothing to be sorry for.  You're right, it wasn't fair from my part that I didn't come see you before now."

He paused, trying to find the right way to express what he felt.  

"It has nothing to do with me not caring.  I hope you know that.  It's just that these last few days haven't been easy." 

Jack didn't even try to explain why, he knew he would never be able to find the right words.  He could only hope that Samantha would accept his apology.

Samantha nodded, not wanting to press for answers.  She knew that he wasn't just talking about work, his actions had consequences for his marriage and relationship to his family.  A part of his life that she would never be a part of.  That was in the very nature of their relationship.  She was always the other woman, the mistress of a married man.  The mistress had to live with the thought of sharing a man.  But that wasn't an advantage., no every day routine.  The memories of her intense relationship were a collection of special moments, moments in which Jack wasn't her boss and wasn't Maria's husband.  Jack by far wasn't the first married man she had been with.  But he was the first with whom it bothered her that she was just the mistress.  It being over with him had hurt more than any relationship before.  In fact, it still hurt, a little bit every time she saw him.  She had just learned to cover up her feeling at work a long time ago.

A small smile appeared on her face.

"You're here now.  That's what counts.  Thank you for what you did.  Everything.  I know you probably got into trouble for it.  But I owe my life to you.  There aren't enough words to thank you for that." She couldn't begin to express what she felt.  Especially now that everything had changed again.  A few weeks ago, she had worked so hard to convince herself that it was really over, once and for all.  But when Jack had been leaning over her in the bookstore, trading his life for hers.  She didn't know what to think anymore.  She was probably just deluding herself thinking that anything had changed, because she secretly wished for it.

Jack was just about to reply when his beeper went off yet again.  Van Doren again.  He hadn't called her back.  She wanted to know when he would get back to the office to give his statement.

"I'm sorry.  Need to get going; Van Doren wants to have a word with me and I don't think I'm in the position to be late." 

"Van Doren? Haven't you talked to her already?"

"It's about our current case.  We had a situation this morning." Jack replied a bit hesitantly.

Samantha frowned.  Van Doren only intervened when something had gone wrong or mistakes had been made.  She thought about asking Jack for detail, but decided against it.  

"Then you better get going.  Good luck!" She said trying to hide the disappointment that he didn't tell her what was going on.

_tbc_


	7. Chapter 7

_Running_ _Disclaimer: CSI and Without a Trace are the property of their respective owners.  I own nothing._ _Spoilers: CSI up to Play with Fire, WaT first season_

Summary: WIP.  CSI / WaT crossover.  Set after CSI PwF and WaT Fallout 2.  It's easier to run than to act.

_A/N: This is the final chapter.  Thanks to everyone who reviewed, comment or just read this story.  To the people at Maple Street for just being so amazing and supportive._

_Las Vegas Crime Lab, Grissom's office_

_May 15, 3.30 p.m._

On the surface almost nothing had changed.  His life continued in the same routine as always.  He went to work.  He went home, showered, ate, read, took care of his household chores and went to bed.  Sara's disappearance had altered nothing.  But on the inside, everything seemed different.  

If the team was talking about it, then he didn't know.  There was nothing to talk about.  It was just incomprehensible and real at the same time.  In their profession they weren't  new to the cruelties of mankind.  But being at the other end changed everything.  Grissom thought, that he knew, that he could see this as another case, but he couldn't.  Part of him berated him for being so taken out of balance.  He worked with Sara, he would say that they were friends.  But in reality, he knew nothing about her.  He had become painfully aware of that when the FBI agents had been in town asking everyone from Sara's life.  He knew her from work, knew her professional history, her manner of working, but not what she did during the rare times when she wasn't working.  He had always assumed that her life followe3d a routine similar to that of his own life, but now he had started to question that belief.  Had Sara led a life he had been completely ignorant about? He sighed, closing the file he was working on.  He had been working fiercely those last few days.  But his attempts to distract himself had only worked to an extent.  He just couldn't ignore what had happened.  The question in his mind where always there, impossible to shut out.  The phone on his desk rang.  The sound startled him, sending a wave of unknown fear through him.  It had been like that every time the phone had rung since he knew of Sara's disappearance.  He dreaded the call that would bring him the news that he delivered to families every day.  This couldn't be it.  He picked up on the third ring, knowing that he had to answer eventually.  It was Mr.  Sidle.  Grissom took a deep breath, waiting for whatever news he would learn in the coming seconds.  He knew that whatever it was, he would have to do something.  He just hoped it wasn't going to be too late.

_FBI Missing Persons Unit, New York City_

_May 15, 4.35 p.m._

Danny was working on his report, part of the inevitable paperwork that followed every case, when he saw a familiar form slowly traverse the office, 

„Martin? Man, what are you doing here?" he was surprised at seeing him at the office after the last time he had seen him, he had been on his way to the hospital after the shooting in the morning.

"I was just talking to OPR." Martin's tone didn't convey any hint on how it had gone.  All Danny could pick up was fatigue.

"You sure you're okay? You don't look too good."

"Considering the day I had." Martin said grimly and proceeded to head out the door.  Danny followed him.

"Is Sara going to be okay?"

"Yes.  Vivian is over at the hospital to see whether she's up to talk to us yet.  But the case is closed.  Christine Watts took her because she thought that Sara was having an affair with her husband.  That's what we'll be on the case reports.  What really happened, we'll never know." Danny gave him the quick run-down of the case.

Even tired and worn out, Martin seemed to sense that Danny wasn't happy with this version of the case.

"You don't think that's what happened?"

"Sure, she took her, but she had to have help.  Going back to the hotel as Sara, using her phone and her credit card isn't something you think of when you react in panic.  That's cold-blooded planning.  And that's where I think our criminalist Dr.  Watts comes in.  He somehow learn what happened, maybe he was there when his wife met Sara, maybe he wasn't.  But in any case, he figure that it's going to make him appear in a bad light, a career killer if he ever becomes a suspect.  So he help his wife cover it up.  It's in his best interest that Sara is never found.  It just goes wrong somewhere and Sara doesn't end up dead in Central Park, but alive at the wife's parents' house.  Major mess-up.  Point is that we can't find Dr.  Watts anywhere.  We're keeping tabs on his credit cards, but we have no warrant.  Insufficient evidence, the DA said." Danny was angry at the bureaucratic hurdles that would allow the bad guy to get away and escape responsibility. 

"Do we have anything at him?" Danny frustration seemed to transfer to Martin. It was very unsatisfying for everyone when the real culprit got away.

"Not much. According to the travel agent where her ticket was bought, a man ordered the ticket over the phone. They are sure it wasn't her. Then there was the phone call, we know that Christine used to mobile phone after Sara's disappearance to call her husband. That at least proves that he knew something. And there is the fact that we can't find him anymore. But the DA obviously doesn't want to get into hot water for issuing a warrant for the house of the crime labs vice-director."

"Mhhmm." Martin mumbled only half listening.  His ribs were killing him and the painkillers he'd gotten from the hospital did little in that regard.  The only noticeable effect that they had produced was making him incredibly tired.  The case was over and all he wanted was to get home and call it a day.

"You better get home.  But.." Danny suddenly interrupted and Martin looked up to see why.  Jack was heading in their direction, looking everything but pleased.  The expression seemed to harder when he set eyes on Martin.  Martin involuntarily flashed back to the last time he'd encountered Jack.  He was sure that this time, he wasn't going to get off the hook that easily.  Although, he knew that he'd  been out of line earlier, he couldn't help but feel anger rise again.  Anger at the lack of responsibility, anger at how Jack seemed to be playing games with their lives.  He had to keep his anger in check or he might get himself into serious trouble.  Danny saved him for the moment by asking Jack some question.  Martin didn't listen, he used the opportunity to slip past his co-workers out into the hallway.  Jack was the last person he wanted to deal with right now.  He would have to somewhere down the line, but not now.

_Mount Sinai Hospital, New York City_

_May 15, 5.20 p.m._

One look and Sara knew where she was.  Off-white walls, nightstand, faint neon light, muffled humming and beeping sounds from outside: a hospital.  But how exactly had she gotten there? There was images flashing in her mind, but they went so quickly that she didn't stand a chance to hold on to them to take a closer look.  Sounds, she recalled sounds, shouting, gun shots, someone telling her that it was going to be okay.  There had been a loud crash, an explosion of light, flying glass, fire, the smell of smouldering plastic.  None of that made sense.  Sara sighed as her dull headache started to intensify.  She was tired, almost to tired to care about what had happened.  Just sleep and forget.  Although she didn't know why, she had the lingering feeling of past horrors, of demons lurking in the buried memories.  She wanted to get away from them, sleep ands hope they would never catch up with her.

_Outside FBI Missing Persons Unit, New York City_

_May 15,  8.15 p.m._

When Jack walked across the department parking garage, he felt oddly relieved.  It was finally slowing down.  Ever since the bookstore incident he had had the feeling that his life was spinning out of control on all fronts.  Everything which had already been , had cracked.  What had happened during the shooting was just the worst example.  As unfair and anger fuelled Martin's accusations had been, he had a point.  Jack hadn't acted responsibly and as a consequence had neglected his job and had started to make mistakes which out others in danger.  It had all gone wrong, gone the way it shouldn't have.  Without thinking, he didn't head home, he took the other turn in direction of the hospital.  In that moment it became clear to Jack that the decision had been made all along.  Every action had been one step down the path to where he was standing now.  His marriage with Marie had been decaying for a long time.  By the time he had gotten personally involved with Samantha it had already been over.  Probably even for years before that.  He couldn't just go back and ignore all that.  Neither could Marie.  She had made it clear to him that she wasn't going to.  Jack sighed, as he turned into the hospital parking lot.  He had not only his marriage to deal with and Samantha, but also the professional fallout from the shooting.  The next weeks, maybe even months would be hard, not just for him, but for everyone.  Whether they wanted to admit it or not, Barry Mashburn had affected them all in some way.  Bur running away wasn't a solution, as appealing as it felt it time, there was no real escape.  Eventually it always came back to them.  That was clear to him now.  He'd stopped running.


End file.
